My Best: A Healing in the Key of Depeche Mode

My Best:

A Healing In the Key of Depeche Mode

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“Something so worthless serves a purpose”

She and I sat there. On her deck. In the mini-mansion overlooking the oil refinery as it pumped noxious gas into the air. Princesses among crude oil.

I was nervous and grateful for the opportunity to be sitting together for I knew it was a privilege that took us millions of suns to achieve. Although I had no green to share I had red- I was rich in red.

Red and green princesses, incongruous companions who shared the gift of being honored for their color. Two princesses acting as friends, because they hated each other. On that deck they set forth on the arduous journey of un-hating one another: her bringing green and turning it to turquoise and her bringing red and turning it into maroon.

She made me a drink of poison. I accepted the drink, but only because I was humoring her hospitality. We both fell.

After falling down

she and I woke up on a walk in the forest to find food. Chinese take out food. Our walk led us to paths of non-judgment for it wasn’t long that I forced her to produce red from her green and she forced me to produce green from my red. It wasn’t easy

(we are probably still paying for it),

but it was necessary.

Dusk finally came, then darkness, and the awkwardness that we found from too much color was cut through.

It was good enough, but it was not enough. It was not the best.

“They can only do harm.”

She turned her eyes down, “You know, you’re a really great guest.” I smiled. Being considered a “good guest” was my specialty. My polite grin hid the truth: she was a familiar. Family before this life-go-round, but she didn’t know it yet, so I thanked her for her hospitality.

We were dancing now

Like 2 women getting jumped into a gang:

little 15

consisting of 1+1

and

our demons:

seen,

unseen,

articulated,

mythological,

kind,

harsh,

ALL

battling it out.

And battle indeed

For many years.

Round One:

Dismissal of her importance. Refusal to give her any acknowledgement of her accomplishments. She should feel not good enough.

Round Two:

Mockery of appearance. Curly afro. Overt expression. Recognition of beauty. She should hate herself for it.

They pitted mockery and withholding against one another.

Today

mockery and withholding

turned into

admiration and generosity

Us giving

the “other”

what she felt she lacked

on her own.

The ride was tricky and forced us to forgive each other whenever our talons would appear.

Of course they did- often.

However, it wasn’t as severe as before. Soon enough we became enough. Where each one was weak the other made sure to fill in the gaps, the missing links, with the appropriate and necessary amount of red or green. Now, we were familiar with each other’s colors.

“When everything’s dark, it keeps us from the stark reality.”

Tragedy struck. Their method of coping was hilarious, dramatic, nefarious. dripping with arrows pointed at each other’s soft and mushy spots. Those spots held secrets. Deep, dark, painful secrets that propelled their levitation’s during the day and astral projections at night.

These tragedies taught them how their bodies could be in one place, while their souls, spirits and minds were in another.

This particular tragedy shattered them into itsy-bitsy pieces. It forced them to travel again only this time they traveled backwards in time. Their colors turned, and they barely recognized one another. They were turning the same color.

“Here’s a plea from my heart to you nobody knows me the way that you do.”

Friendship looks strange though the lens of sameness.

Looks more like romance, so it’s scarier.

I bleed into my new sister

I ask her to do the same, but then

remember

We are familiars as sure as our skin rips and our blood runs red

“I’ve changed my routine. I’m clean.”

We sat overlooking the oil refinery. This time the smoothness of our previous evening was undone. The edges were frayed. We were stripped down to the bone. We were pierced. There wasn’t a thing we could do about it except allow the full unweaving to occur.

“It’s only when I see myself with someone else that I find myself, I find myself.”

We took turns looking into our mirrors. She and I alternated looking in the mirror and changing our expressions to match the face we envisioned.

I looked in the mirror and smiled. My smile turned into Father’s smile with its thin upper lip, so I thickened the top lip moving it to cover my gumline. “There. All better, “ I exclaimed.

It was her turn. She looked in the mirror. Her eyes seemed too big. She lowered her gaze, squinting her eyes. She looked less like Mother when she did that. She would have exclaimed too, but her expression would have changed dramatically. I said the words for her through my lippy smile: “I feel you.”

“Before you come to any conclusions come walking in my shoes.”

Our club had to be small. There wasn’t any room in our mirror for more than our own reflection, so 1+1 would do.

On the deck overlooking the refinery we killed them all.

No 1 survived.

We told all of their secrets to the mirror, to one another.

Next,

we became terrified, but

Our secrets had been ruining our lives before we told all of them. We knew each other’s fears. She held mine, I held hers.

I was safe, because

the holder of secrets was no longer

that man who disappointed.

It was her. I chose her to fear.

and,

I wasn’t

that woman who confined

her to idle ugliness.

I found her beauty more than enough. The best.

It was us.

She

Never Let Me Down,

and

I

made her feel

Sensual and full of

FIRE AND MYSTERY.

We sat there some more on her deck. In the mansion overlooking the oil refinery as it pumped noxious gas into the air. Princesses among crude oil.

thankful.

She was a nice surprise

She didn’t have to defend her feelings inside

She saw with her eyes

She smiled with her smile

She took a ride with her best friend.

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